


The Secret to Purrfect Pancakes

by GuyOfShy



Series: Scatterings of White Roses and Sightings of Bumblebees [19]
Category: RWBY
Genre: Bumblebee/by - Freeform, Cooking, Culinary Combat, F/F, Some innuendo, lots of puns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 11:59:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6005125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GuyOfShy/pseuds/GuyOfShy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yang drags Blake into her own personalized crash course to teach her the art of making delicious pancakes. Using her own personalized recipe. Which is assuredly not one hundred percent safe.</p><p>It may or may not involve Dust. And many culinary puns. And Yang's own safety may or may not be threatened by Blake when she learns of this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Secret to Purrfect Pancakes

“Yang, are you sure that I need to know how to do this?”

Twirling the pan she was holding in her hand, the blonde wrapped an arm around Blake’s shoulder and yanked her close.

“Look Blake, if we’re gonna be raising a family together you need to know how to cook for it!”

Her sarcastic response was accompanied by a roll of the eyes. “That’s still a long way down the road...”

"That's what you keep telling me," Yang sighed, turning to her with a casual look that asked if she could make it happen any faster.

"We still have to graduate from Beacon, Yang."

"And you still have to graduate from my cooking class."

"That's what you keep telling me," Blake quietly echoed.

"Then we're agreed! Let's get started!"

Blake solemnly nodded, wishing she didn’t have to do this. Yang had already made all the preparations prior to starting. All the ingredients were already laid out in front of the two apron-equipped teammates, trusty pan at the ready.

It wasn’t as if Blake wasn’t familiar with the basic components of cooking, just that she didn’t have any experience in synthesizing them into anything edible. Pancakes, she supposed, was at least an easy way to start.

“You know Yang, I could just look up a simple recipe and do it myself.”

“You could, but then you wouldn’t be spending any time with me! Besides, I’ve got a special recipe I want you to try.”

“That can’t mean anything good..."

“It means deliciously not-boring pancakes Blake. PanBlakes?” She proposed with a brief look to her. She frowned and shook her head, apparently rejecting the idea, and turned back to the mix of milk and egg she was concocting. “Anyway, I want you to make them with me.”

“I understand that, but if I can-”

“I know you _can_ Blake, I just wanna have some fun with you, alright?”

Blake surrendered to the growing sense of silliness that Yang was forcing onto her and stepped closer to receive her instructions. “Understood... Ready when you are, chef.”

“That’s the spirit Blake! Now! Grab those ingredients for me!”

\-----

“Yang, I think that’s enough flour.”

She didn’t appear to listen, to Blake’s annoyance, and kept chugging the ingredient into a sizable measuring cup, all the way to the top.

“Yang. That’s way more than any sensible recipe calls for.”

“Hey, who's the master chef here again? Just watch and learn Blake, and all will be revealed in time.”

“As you command,” she sarcastically added.

Yang squinted at her and said, “You gotta do the cooking by the book Blake, or things’ll get crazy... there. That should be enough.”

“Enough for what? You could serve the entire floor pancakes with that much flour.”

Yang clutched a large handful of it and began delicately balling it, and swiftly chucked it Blake before she thought to dodge the surprise attack.

Blake’s jaw fell, staring in disbelief where she had been struck on her chest. Yang snickered, and started balling up another fist of flour when Blake narrowed her gaze. She was fuming, and Yang knew it, but she tried to shrug off the spine-chilling stare she was shooting her to prepare her next attack.

Yang let loose another clump of the white fluff at Blake and she expertly evaded it. She ducked and darted around the island, running from the powdery explosions Yang was relentlessly lobbing at her.

“Yang, stop!” Blake cried, realizing she was without a weapon. She never thought to bring Gambol Shroud to defend herself during a simple cooking lesson.

“But why, we’re just having some fun!”

“Yes, maybe _you_ are.” Through chuckles she shouted, “Yang I swear if you don’t knock it off-”

“C’mon, you’re already laughing Blake!” She madly cackled while she chased her, and in the chaos Blake stole the bag off the counter and suddenly whirled around, tossing a white cloud that erupted all over Yang.

She stopped and screwed her eyes shut, spitting and sputtering out the bitter grains and wiping the fluff off her face. Blake silently rejoiced, savoring the feeling of finally thwarting Yang for once.

Yang smiled and started to chuckle, a dangerous smile emerging that Blake had seen far, far too many times to justify ever going out with her.

“You’ve done it now Blake,” she sinisterly said. “Looks like you’re about to have _egginyourface!_ ”

In a swift movement she snatched an egg from the counter and slinged it at her, maniacally laughing when she heard that oh-so-satisfying crack. Yang tried to stifle her snickering but couldn’t get over the utter confusion painting Blake’s face - and the egg, of course.

“Lesson number one, Blake! Always wear an apron when cooking. You never know what could happen!”

“I, don’t even know what to say to you right now.” Blake tried to clean off what she could with a hand towel, straining away the little bit that got caught in her hair, sending a sneer Yang’s way as she did.

“Wow Blake, you look like you’re about to crack from the pressure.”

“I’m about to crack your skull,” she returned with another steely stare.

“Right... I’ll quit cracking jokes, so how about we go back to cooking?”

Blake heavily exhaled. Paired with the glare she was brandishing, however, it was enough to convince Yang that it would better for her health to silence herself before her girlfriend silenced her for good.

\-----

“Alright Blake, here’s a really great secret to making really great pancakes - my personal recipe, actually - add just a teensy tiny pinch of Dust for a little extra kick.”

“What, are you going to fake a sneeze and explode it in my face next?”

“I’m not about to steal my own sister’s move, Blake,” she remarked, sounding offended that she should ever suggest such a thing.

Yang pulled four miniature vials out of the pocket of her apron, which she had forced Blake into as well to protect her from her future floury assault, and rested the Dust on the counter in front of her. Blake turned her a skeptical glance as she examined the bottles, spinning one filled with fine, shining red grains around in her hand.

“You can’t be serious.”

“You bet! Finely crushed Dust of four different varieties, that all add a rather exotic flavor to your dish, courtesy of our dear friend Weiss. Your pick.”

“I can’t believe you stole these from her. And I can’t believe you expect me to eat these either Yang.”

“But why not? They’re gonna taste great!”

“I’m one hundred percent certain this isn’t safe! What happened to things not getting crazy?”

“Whaddya mean? Ruby ate these all the time as a kid, and she turned out fine!”

“Ah, so you two _are_ just crazy then. And I think Weiss would beg to differ about your sister turning out fine. Plus we’re not the most average group of students you know.”

“All the better then! More powerful students deserve a more powerful diet!”

“More like peculiar...”

“Potayto-potahto. Besides. Weiss thinks Ruby is _real_ fine, no doubt about that.”

“Whatever Yang. Yellow Dust, just for you.”

“Oh you’re too sweet Blake!”

“Spare me the sarcasm, please, before I die eating these.”

“It’s not sarcasm! I only make pancakes for sweet people Blake: and that list is limited to my family, and you.”

“Not Weiss?”

“I just like to mess with her,” Yang said with a dashing grin that spread its way to Blake.

“You like to mess with me a lot too, you know.”

“Oh I know. The difference being that sometimes we like get messy though.”

Blake groaned, shamefully bowing her head. It was as if Yang had to bring up their more indulgent encounters every conversation they had.

“C’mon, I’m only messing with you Blake,” Yang pleaded, hooking an arm around her and pulling her into a more heated kiss.

Blake withdrew but still hovered close, smiling and saying, “You know, I was about to hug you before you brought that up.”

“And you ended up with a kiss instead, so it’s all good!”

“I suppose you’re right,” Blake admitted with a sigh. Backing away she skeptically stared at the various vials on the counter. “Now, about this Dust..."

“Yellow, right?” Yang picked up the tiny little vial and shook a tiny amount of its contents into the mix, which she then poured into the pan and allowed to melt into a bubbly magma. She excitedly observed a few sparks flaring up as the Dust bubbled in, while Blake warily watched from a distance and remained exceptionally suspicious of the safety of this experiment. Sparks were not a good sign.

Yang leaned away and clasped her hands. “Well, while we wait for this, what are your thoughts on the recipe Blake? Or would you rather just make out?”

“I think it’s a recipe for disaster.”

“If you think this is crazy, just wait until next week.”

“What’s next week?” Blake skeptically asked with a drop in the volume of her voice.

“Cookies!”

Suddenly the door swung open and they turned to see Ruby bolting up to Yang’s side, panting breaths with a handful of papers clutched in her arms.

“Did you guys say you were making cookies? I want in!”

_”RUBY!”_

Ruby squeaked out some fearful noise and hid behind the island in the middle of the room as Weiss stormed in, a burning stare apparently looking to fix itself on Ruby. She stomped up to Yang as well, demanding to know where she ran off to through a brutal interrogation.

At that moment Ruby snuck around and darted out of the door again, the storm of wind following her giving away her presence. Weiss hesitated between killing both Blake and Yang right then for betraying her or to continue her murderous hunt for Ruby, but soon she scowled at the two and ran back out.

“RUBY! Give me my papers back! That work is due tomorrow!”

“Not until you cuddle with me!” They heard Ruby shout.

“I can’t cuddle you if you keep running away, you dolt!”

They didn’t hear another response. Either they were too far away now, or Ruby realized her mistake and turned herself in.

“Well,” Yang began, “the pancakes are ready now.”

“Weiss does know that she can’t catch Ruby as long as she has her Semblance, right?”

“If she doesn’t she’ll figure it out real soon, I guess... Anyway."

The pancake had now solidified into a flat circle in the pan, no longer a bubbling, magma-like mess. Yang had pulled the pan off of the stovetop, very slightly twisting and turning it in her hand, practicing flicking her wrist and the pan upward.

“Yang, don’t tell me-”

“Why tell when I can show? Check this out. You’re gonna flip out over this.” Yang grinned at Blake and with a trained flick of her wrist the doughy saucer soared up into the air.

Blake’s stomach dropped. She was frightened that they had just wasted the time they had spent in preparing it, wasted the precious Dust that Weiss needed now that her father had cut off her card, and she watched it flip and turn, much like her stomach was imagining Weiss scolding her for this ridiculous stunt that was all Yang’s doing. But as luck would have it, or possibly Yang’s skill, it landed squarely and securely back into the pan.

“See? I’m not just buttering you up Blake. I don’t fork around when it comes to cooking.”

Holding one in her hand, a shining, pronged rod of silver, Blake turned it toward the blonde and murmured, “You know Yang, these forks are deceptively sharp. Much like your tongue. I wonder which is sharper?”

Yang took a large step away and immediately hustled back to the stove. “Right, cooking, making food with my best buddy Blakey! No puns to be found here!”

Very quickly she leaned back toward Blake and grinned, “I guess I should bite my tongue?”

Blake was not impressed. She pointed the fork back at Yang and she instantly apologized.

“Sorry Blake, I’m just trying to milk these puns for all they’re worth.”

She didn’t respond.

“Blakey?” Yang hesitantly asked with a more hesitant glance, only to discover Blake was in the middle of a lunge for her arm.

“Woah! Put the fork down Blake! I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry! Listen,” she pleaded while she desperately wrestled her away, “instead of digging into me you can dig into the pancakes when they’re done!”

Blake eased her grip on the spear which Yang barely prevented from impaling her forearm. Relieved, she blew out a breath and took a step away from Blake.

“Y’know, you really need to simmer down Blake.”

“Do you want to die or not?”

“Nope! I’m done for now!”

Blake stepped back to her side, smiling, holding her arm around Yang’s waist.

Yang waited. She dreaded the pinching stab of whatever other sharp utensil was about to pierce her side, or her stomach or her arm. She waited, scared to make a single move yet reluctant to remain in Blake’s tense embrace.

To her surprise, she felt the ghost of and then the impact of lips kissing her cheek. She blushed but didn’t say anything, only warily looking at Blake.

“You can talk now,” she calmly said, still smiling.

“Remember when I said I loved it when you’re feisty? Yeah. Still do.”

Rolling her eyes, Blake kissed her again.

\-----

“Finally, the _real_ secret in the recipe: just a touch of love,” Yang delicately squeaked out, hunched over their Dust-infused creation.

As she fully stood back up Blake scoffed and followed her confident gaze. “Really? That old cliché? And how do you suppose we-”

She had been seized by a swift kiss from Yang, who had wrapped her arms round her and tugged her closer. Surprised Blake flinched, but soon fell into her curling lips and into her embrace, slowly winding her own hands around her.

“I should have seen that coming…”

“I can’t believe you didn’t, after calling it ‘that old cliché,’” Yang deadpanned in Blake’s typical expressionless tone.

“You know, you’re very skilled at ruining passionate moments.”

“Hey, I go through a lot of trouble not to ruin our experiences in bed. Besides, I also double as a skilled chef.”

Ignoring her first statement Blake doubtfully said, “I’ll find out for myself if that’s true or not once these pancakes of yours are done.”

“Speaking of which,” Yang muttered, gingerly lifting them out of the pan and onto a plate that she requested Blake deliver her. She then directed her to a chair at the table that she had so courteously pulled out for her. While she doused them in syrup she eagerly announced to Blake that they were ready.

“There you go Blake, a set of _purr_ fect pancakes, just for you!”

Blake acknowledged her pun with a dulled smile and a menacing twirl of her fork that seemed to silence her, and then glanced at the pancakes and back to Yang, who stood above her, leaning on the table with her arm as if she was waiting for Blake to eat them.

“Great. Now are we done here?”

Yang was disappointed with how glum she suddenly sounded. “Come on Blake, don’t tell me that wasn’t fun.”

“No, it was, but-”

“You were laughing like crazy during that little food fight.”

“-but it’s just a little humbling,” she quietly finished.

“Well, that’s fine. I think we all need to be humbled once in awhile, especially you when you get riled up about things so easily.”

“I could say the same to you, you know.”

Yang pulled up a chair close and plopped down into it next to Blake, sliding the plate of pancakes closer.

“I’ll tell you what.”

“What’s that?” Blake challenged.

“I’ll let you ‘humble’ me in any way you want, but first you’ve got to taste these.”

Blake contemplated it for a moment. She weighed the possibility of eating the pancakes and possibly liquefying her stomach, and pitted it against the chance to humiliate Yang somehow.

That was worth it, she thought, after all the ways that she had been humiliated by her.

“Any way that I want?”

“Any.”

Blake hesitantly stabbed at a tiny triangular slice of fluff. It smelled great. It appeared safe. Against her better judgment she gingerly rested it on her tongue. It felt normal. She gingerly started chewing, keeping a cautious frown locked on Yang.

After a few more test chews she ate it at a normal pace, then peered back at her plate. Under her breath she muttered, “Oh my god.”

Skeptically she lifted the fork to her mouth again. They couldn’t be this good. Not when they had been altered against all common sense by throwing some Dust, of all things, into the mix.

Yang grinned when Blake looked up with those honest, authentically shocked eyes she got whenever she was actually proud of Yang. It was rare to see her so surprised and so impressed with something that she had done.

“Yang, these, are amazing!”

“Uh-huh, what’d I tell you?”

“They’re better than Ren’s!”

“And you wanna know why? Ren is too afraid to go the extra mile! He doesn’t put Dust in his because he doesn’t care about the ‘health concerns’ that totally aren’t there! He doesn’t flip it! He’s way too withdrawn for you anyway.”

“I never said I liked him Yang, no need to get so defensive.”

“How is that being defensive? I was only-”

Blake started chuckling at Yang’s apparent jealousy, which incited her further, but she calmed her by raising her hand.

“Sorry, I was scared Yang; you were beginning to sound like Weiss for a moment.”

“That’s something I hoped I would never hear in my life. Speaking of the Ice Queen, I have to give credit where it’s due. She was the one that told me to start using some of Pumpkin Pete’s stuff, because she said she did it once for Ruby, or, well she got Ren to do them once and she adored them.”

“It sounds like you need to teach Weiss how to make them for Ruby so she doesn’t get swept off her feet by Ren’s cooking skills,” Blake added with a smirk smugly curling her lips.

“Look Blake, I wasn’t being-”

“I’m only teasing Yang.”

“So is teasing me the way you’re going to humble me?”

Coyly smiling now Blake said, “No, I have something better than that in mind. Ever hear of breakfast in bed?”

With an impish grin of her own Yang nodded and hooked an arm around her waist. “I like the way you think Blake. I would be honored to be humbled by you in your court.”

“As long as we aren’t as ‘messy’ as you claim we are, as we were here. We really shouldn’t trash the student kitchen like this.”

Blake leaned into Yang's hug and rested her head into her shoulder. “So, which one of us is going to let Ren know that he’s been bested in the art of cooking pancakes?”

“We should let our kids decide!” Yang proposed, turning an excited smile down at her.

“That’s still a long way down the road, Yang.”

“Well now we’re just another step closer,” she happily murmured, pecking Blake on the forehead.

“That’s what you keep telling me,” she sighed.

**Author's Note:**

> Yang was Osborn to flip pancakes. I hope someone saw that reference in there. That movie was okay. The first two were better.
> 
> I just keep writing Bumblebee/by stuff and it just keeps getting worse in the show... WHEN WILL I ESCAPE THIS VICIOUS CYCLE?!
> 
> Silly references aside, I actually needed another Bumblebee/by part to go on ‘Lonely Together’ and couldn’t think of one so I asked my tired friend and they suggested this, which I ultimately didn’t go with but didn’t scrap the idea entirely. “I’ll save that for another thing” was my response, and so here it is.
> 
> And there’s the usual, the how-did-I-do? and all. If you’d like to point out anything I could have done better on, suggestions, whatever, how your day is going, what you ate for breakfast, y’know. Comment if you can teach me something that my dumb head refuses to learn.
> 
> Also, a strong salute to the CReWBY for the FANTASTIC Volume Three and its conclusion today! Have a wonderful Valentine’s Day all you wonderful people who read this. Or, if you’re like me today, just have a wonderful day everyone. Thanks for reading!


End file.
